


Who Will Survive, and What Will Be Left of Them?

by moonyredmoon



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Western, F/M, M/M, Murder By Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1942482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonyredmoon/pseuds/moonyredmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Damon and Alaric live together in New Mexico (western era) with a newly orphaned Caroline. When the Devil comes to town, Damon takes it upon himself to get rid of him, putting everyone at risk.</p><p>Inspired by the Murder By Death concept album of the same title. Each chapter is associated with a song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Devil in Mexico

**Author's Note:**

> I have been tossing this idea around in my head for a while trying to decide on which fandom to use. I think Vampire Diaries is a very nice fit.
> 
> I don't own anything.
> 
> Thanks to Murder By Death for creating such a great album, L.J. Smith for her wonderful story, and Warner Bros for making it a great show.
> 
> Please review, but keep in mind this is my first ever fic, mostly because I'm really bad at completing things and always get discouraged by my lack of writing skills. :D
> 
> Cookies to anyone who actually reads it!

_"Well, I'll take two shots," said the Devil to the man_   
_And laid a little book on the bar_   
_Well lord knows the Devil, he only talks shit_   
_And only drinks whiskey from the jar_   
  
_And his hands were raw_   
_And his eyes were cold_   
_And his breath was pure alcohol_   
_And the sound of his voice, it never got old_   
  
_And he talked and talked and talked through the night_   
_Kept sipping his shine until the morning light_   
_Tumbled in through the shades and as he started to go_   
_I put three bullets in his back_   
  
_Well, the Devil's bleeding crude oil from a hole in his chest_   
_And it's panging on the bedpan, dripping through the bedsheets_   
_And all the businessmen are putting pails beneath his wounds_   
_And pawning the oil at the market_   
  
_Well, his heart ain't made of nothing but piss and vinegar_   
_And his boots have trampled more than you would know_   
_And his breath has split open the thermometer on the sill_   
_It's so fucking cold in here since you brought in the snow_   
  
_Black heart leaking oil in the pan_   
_Dealing insults with his free hand_   
_In this hospital bed bleeding_   
_Black heart, you shot the plan to hell_   
_And the apathy ate you up inside_   
  
_Like slivers of lead inside your food, he's the poison inside you_   
_And you eat until you're full and you eat until you're full_   
_He lit the fires inside your belly full of medicine and whiskey_   
_The aspirin, Valium, codeine pills, and silver rum_   
  
_Someone say a Hail Mary for this house_   
_Bless the corners and burn the Devil out_

 

 

Damon slammed the door to the small house, which did little to block out the sound of sand and dust blowing violently against the wooden panels. He propped his shotgun against the wall next to the door and removed his hat and leather jacket before crossing the room in two long strides and slamming the small kitchen window shut as well.

“Ric, you know better,” he grunted, reaching over the man to grab his small cloudy glass of whiskey and taking a large gulp. He hissed and placed the glass back down. Alaric leaned forward, causing the small table to creak under the weight of his shoulders, and picked up the glass.

“Leave some for the rest of us,” he said, glaring at the few drops of liquid left. “I’ve gotta make this one last. The dry season will start soon and we will all be needing it.”

Damon laughed and kissed Alaric on the head. He pulled back the other small wooden chair across the table, sliding it loudly across the uneven floorboards, and sat down. “Enough with the whiskey, Ric, I’ll get you more.” He leaned toward Alaric and spoke softly, glancing at one of the two doors in the small house. “You can’t keep the windows open with this wind, you aren’t good enough at sweeping it out and we’ll be drowning in sand before your drunken ass can do anything about it.” His eyes widened briefly, like they did, and he clapped Alaric on the shoulder with a grin.

“Caroline likes the sound,” Alaric answered, glancing at the door as well. He tipped back the few drops of alcohol into his mouth and sighed, then stood up and grabbed the half full bottle off the dusty shelf and poured himself another drink.

“You can’t use the desires of a fourteen year old girl to protect you,” he scolded beneath his breath. “Is she here?”

Alaric nodded and sat back down with a thud. “In her room.”

“Is _he_ here?”

“In her room.”

Damon stood up with a start. “Then why the hell are we trying to be quiet?! You didn’t even make them keep the door open?” He crossed the sitting room and flung the bedroom door open, met by two pairs of questioning eyes. They were sitting across from one another on the circular rug beside Caroline’s bed, a stack of cards between them and a few in each of their hands.

“Caroline,” Damon nodded. “Klaus.” He shot the young man a look and was met with a smirk. “How are you?”

Caroline gave him a look. “Fine, Damon,” she said. “Just having a game.” She waved the cards at him, annoyed.

“Good.” He turned to leave, then poked his head back in. “I will be leaving this open.” He kept the door cracked behind him wide enough to hear the loud scoff as he took the few steps back to Alaric.

“She’s just a kid,” he said, taking a drink.

“Yes, Ric, Caroline is a kid but she is growing up fast, and Klaus is no more a kid than I am.”

“Dont give me that shit, he’s sixteen! You are thirteen years older than him.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at her, and even though he’s not technically much older,” he nodded to Alaric pointedly, “the fact that she has us and he has no one but himself puts them on completely different levels.”

“He’s good for her, Damon,” Alaric sighed. “He can understand what she’s going through.”

Damon frowned. “He dealt with it differently. For all we know he’s convincing her to run away with him and live as an adult, and she isn’t ready for that. I don’t care that we aren’t her real parents, we owe it to her and them to keep her safe.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Safe isn’t alone with a horny boy and a drunk dumb enough to give them privacy.”

“Just because I’m drinking, it doesn’t mean I’m drunk,” Alaric said defensively. “I can hold my liquor. I’ve had tons of practice.” He smiled, and Damon couldn’t help but smile back. “Besides, they weren’t the ones I was trying to give privacy.”

Damon sighed and grabbed the glass again, despite Alaric’s protests. “Well, we are responsible for her now.” He watched Alaric as he raised the rim to his lips and laughed, taking a sip instead of a gulp just because of those anxious eyes. He gave the whiskey back and Alaric grabbed it quickly to survey the damage. “Believe me, she’s going to need us looking out for her.”

Alaric frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh nothing,” he said, moving to the armchair across from the large black furnace that the sitting area centered around. “We just need to keep a close watch on her from now on.”

Alaric waited for him to explain, then sighed a took his own seat on the rocking chair to look Damon in the face. “Stop being so cryptic and tell me what you did.”

Damon bit his lip and avoided eye contact. “I shot him.” Silence. He looked up slowly. Anger sobered his friend very quickly.

“You what?” Alaric’s eyes blazed then focused on the shotgun Damon had brought in. He walked over to it and picked it up, checking the barrel and staring for a moment. He took a long, shuddering breath and set the gun back down. “What did you do, Damon?”

Damon frowned. He knew deep down that it was a mistake, that he needed to control himself better and that he would undoubtedly pay for his actions, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Alaric. At the time it had felt completely justified and necessary. “He doesn’t belong here,” he snapped. “He spends all day drinking your precious bar dry and talking shit like he owns the place. This is our town, our neighbors, our whiskey, and he needed to be sent a very clear message. I wasn’t going to back down like the others, Ric. We needed to stand up for what is ours.”

“You can’t just shoot the Devil and hope to get away with it, Damon.”

“Well, I did. Three times.” He smirked and crossed his arms. “He’s bleeding out in town as we speak. I found him there at the bar, waited until he was leaving, and shot him square in the back.”

Alaric shook his head. “How are you still alive, you fucking idiot?”

Damon laughed. “He must have been too shocked to kill me just then. When I left the others in the bar were flocking around him… Not to help, I don’t think. Nobody wants him here.”

Just then there was a knock on the door. Alaric opened it to find Elijah, the town’s priest. Neither Alaric nor Damon frequented the church, but even the non-religious folk knew Elijah; unlike many other priests he came from a very well-known family and was very active in all aspects of the community. He looked over Alaric’s shoulder at Damon, his eyes wide with fear. “Come in, Father.” Elijah stepped inside, wringing his hands and visibly shaking in his black suit as his eyes darted around the house.

His eyes focused suddenly and a fake smile broke across his face. “Ah, Caroline,” he said. Damon turned his head to see Caroline standing warily outside her door, Klaus right behind her. “How good to see you. Same to you, brother.” He nodded to Klaus, who didn’t return the gesture. Since Elijah had been ordained he had completely left his family for the church. When their parents and other siblings died leaving only the two of them, Elijah offered Klaus nothing but council and sympathy, as if it wasn’t his family as well. Klaus had never forgiven him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in a small voice. Though Elijah was always around town, he rarely visited individual homes unless by request. Seeing him unannounced was never a good sign.

“Oh, nothing, child,” he said, wringing his hands again. He looked desperately at Damon, who only raised his eyebrows and smirked.

“Anything you need to say, you can say in front of all of us. What’s wrong, Father?”

Elijah swallowed loudly, casting another nervous look at the children before licking his lips to speak. “We have a serious problem. The bar… I don’t know what drew me there, the Lord perhaps, leading me there to finally cast the Devil out… Maybe he wanted to warn me, I don’t know…” His voice trailed off, but he soon found it again. “I don’t go there on Sundays, you know. I never go to drink at all, but I do visit on working days to talk with the people… It is Sunday today, the day of rest, but I went after He called me... and what I saw… What I heard…” His voice faltered again, but this time he didn’t recover, just looked at the ground with wide eyes and mouth hanging open.

“You saw the Devil,” Damon offered.

Elijah looked up at him quickly and swallowed again. “Yes, yes, I saw him. He was bleeding. It was the oddest sight, because he was bleeding and some of the most established men in town…” he glanced at the children, “... they were… collecting the blood.” He watched Damon’s face turn to disgust. “But it wasn’t blood!” He corrected himself. “It was oil, I believe. They were collecting the oil in whatever they could find… glasses from the bar, flasks, even bedpans. They laughed and joked as they did, saying how they would make a fortune on the market. The Devil just laid there unconscious, bleeding out… I asked what had happened, and they said you came and shot him. Is that true, Damon?”

Damon felt all eyes on him and nodded. Elijah groaned and Caroline gasped. “I did what had to be done, Father. The Lord should thank me.”

“God save you, Damon,” he gasped. “That wasn’t all, son.” He crossed himself quickly, muttering the holy words beneath his breath. “They eventually brought him to the hospital. Not the men, they left with their oil, but the more compassionate onlookers. Don’t ask me why, but I venture some don’t like seeing a bleeding man being used like that, even if he is the Devil… I followed them and it wasn’t long before he woke up.”

Alaric spoke up, having been silent this whole time. “Is Damon in danger, Father?”

“We are all in danger, son.” He looked around the room at each face watching him. “When he woke up, this cold overtook me. I had never felt anything like it, not even during the darkest winter nights. Before I left in fear he looked me in the eyes and said he would enact his own form of vengeance. He told me to pray for my own soul and those I wished to be spared. It’s not just you, it’s all of us.”

“Why?” asked Damon. “Why not just me? I’m the one who shot him. He should only care about coming for me.” He looked at Alaric, anger and remorse clouding his mind. He knew it had been a mistake; he wished he had told Alaric that sooner, before hearing the consequences. Nobody else was supposed to be affected by his actions. He never wanted to put anyone else in danger.

“Honestly… it didn’t sound like he cared much that you shot him,” Elijah said slowly, eyes closed. “He said he didn’t like being stole from. You opened his wounds but those men took advantage of it, and now we will all suffer for their greed.” He opened his eyes and looked to Caroline, who was pale as a ghost. Klaus was gripping her hand tightly and holding her close. Damon didn’t have the heart to separate them.

“I am here to help in any way I can. I know you took his poor girl in out of the kindness of your heart after her family perished, and the Lord wants to grant you some protection. Please, pray with me.” He offered his hands each to Alaric and Damon, who hesitated momentarily before joining hands and offering their own to both Caroline and Klaus. Once they were linked together Elijah began. “Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus…”

After nearly an hour of this he broke the chain, and took incense and strange herbs out of his bag along with a small cross. He crossed himself, lit the incense, and crushed the herbs into dust before blowing them at each corner of the small house, muttering under his breath the whole time. By the time he was finished night had fallen. He turned to them, sadness in his eyes, wished them luck, and left.


	2. Killbot 2000

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Devil sends his first act of revenge on the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been mostly written for over a week now. It doesn't include as much as I had originally intended, but if I don't just say it is finished now then I don't think it will ever get done. I'll make up for it in the next chapter.
> 
> Like always, I don't own anything.
> 
> Please review and leave kudos if you like it so I know if I should bother to keep writing.
> 
> I promise the next chapter won't take as long to post! :)

_A smell like cigarettes creeps softly through the vents_   
_The room is filling up with smoke and little bodies_   
_Tell all the boys and girls from school to keep breaking all the rules_   
_To let their parents know they're individuals_   
  
_Datura flakes off from your lips_   
_You've lost the swagger in your hips_   
_Your eyes are turning blue to gray_   
_Your skin feels soft and sagging down_   
_Your arms drag across the ground_   
_With each step you take_   
  
_And they fall from the jungle gyms_   
_And they fall and piss away each night_   
_Among the sound of bodies crawling around the room_   
  
_I can smell their flesh on everything left in this room_   
_Chalk and scattered crayons on empty desks_   
_For weeks finding clumps of unwashed hair_   
_Caught between the vents blowing_   
  
_And they fall from the jungle gyms_   
_And they fall from the jungle gyms_   
_And they fall_   
_And they fall from the jungle gyms_   
_And they fall_   
_And they fall and piss away each night_   
_Among the sound of bodies crawling around the room_   
  
_Carry their little bodies_   
_To the cemetery so gently (x5)_   
  
_Please don't let their necks crook towards the ground_

 

 

A week had passed since Damon had shot the Devil. A week had passed, and nobody had seen any signs of Hell reigning down on their town. The businessmen who had collected the dripping oil were feeling pretty good about themselves. So was Damon.

“See, we had nothing to worry about,” he assured Alaric, looking out the window to take in the beautiful morning. The sun was shining, but clouds rushed across the sky, providing some relief to the blistering heat. Caroline was away at school, Damon never had work before evening, and Alaric was frankly hurting for new cases. “Everything is wonderful, and we have a whole morning to ourselves.” He smiled suggestively.

“Stop acting like me not having work is a good thing.” Alaric instinctively reached for the whiskey, but stopped himself and poured a glass of water instead. Maybe Damon was right, maybe he did have a problem.

“So you’re telling me you would rather this place be rampant with criminals?” he asked, leaning back in his chair so only two wooden legs teetered on the floor.

“Yes,” said Alaric. “Absolutely, as long as it meant I had a chance to bring them to justice and make us money while doing it.”

“Honestly, I do fine by us on my own, Ric,” Damon mused, rolling a stray penny between his fingers. “Criminals or not, every man wants one thing.” His eyes widened for a split second and he grinned. “Well, every man but us, I guess. Unless every man loses his dick in a day we will be doing just fine.”

“Don’t talk to me about dicks unless you’re going to do something about it.” Alaric frowned and drank his water, looking out the window instead of at Damon. He heard the legs of the chair scrape against the ground and soon felt hot breath against his ear.

“Who said I wasn’t going to do anything about it?” Alaric closed his eyes as Damon unbuttoned his pants and went in for the kill.

 

Caroline sat near the window of the schoolhouse. All the others were outside for recess, but she had decided to stay inside practicing her penmanship, mostly because she didn’t want to get her new dress dirty. Klaus had given it to her just a few days ago and she knew it wouldn’t stay clean very long, but she was willing to make sacrifices to extend that time as far as possible. It would be smarter to dirty it quickly so it would match her others and Damon wouldn’t notice the addition to her closet--she knew he didn’t approve of Klaus and would definitely have something to say about him giving her gifts. Caroline appreciated it though, not being used to gifts at all, and would cherish it forever.

She brushed off her skirt, patting out the wrinkles. Klaus quickly appeared in her mind; the thought of his handsome face, light hair, and thick lips made her smile. When she looked up again she jumped in her seat, surprised to see the subject of her thoughts in front of her.

“Klaus!” she said, putting down her pen and ink. “What are you doing here?” She quickly looked out the window; the other students were still playing. She breathed a sigh of relief. “You aren’t allowed,” she whispered.

“Caroline, love, I need you to come with me,” he said seriously, his eyes fixed on her. He reached out a hand for her to take, but she hesitated.

“I’m not allowed Klaus, I have class,” she said slowly, glancing outside again.

“It isn’t safe, sweetheart,” he said between gritted teeth, continuing to hold his hand up for her to take.

“Klaus, I can’t--”

“Caroline, darling, do you trust me?” His bright blue eyes stared into hers and she glanced outside before composing herself with a deep breath.

“Yes,” she said softly. He smiled, but it didn’t last.

“Then come with me, please.” She nodded and took his hand, but stopped when the smell of cigarettes came to her nose. It wrinkled in distaste; she hated that smell.

“Klaus, have you been smoking?” she asked, pulling her hand away.

Klaus’s eyes widened, and his expression of terror frightened her. “Caroline,” he said quickly, firmly, “I need you to hold your breath and run, do you understand? Run, now.” She stared at him and didn’t move. “RUN!” At his shout she took off out the door, pushing through the other students who were just coming back inside. Their teacher yelled after her, but she didn’t listen, just kept running toward home despite the cries and laughs of her peers and the throbbing of her feet. Even at full speed, her legs couldn’t keep up with the pounding of her heart as she ran, ignoring the constant throbbing of her feet in her worn shoes. When she heard Klaus catching up to her she began to slow.

“Not yet, love,” he said all too smoothly at the pace they were going. She felt a hand on her spine pushing her forward. “Don’t look back.”

They didn’t stop until they were almost to her house. The adrenaline allowed her to ignore the protest of her legs and lungs, but when they slowed to a stop it hit her like a brick wall. She collapsed to her knees, heaving, trying to catch her breath. Klaus kneeled next to her and offered her a canteen. She didn’t know where he had gotten it, but she accepted without hesitation. The cool water helped, but her throat still burned.

“You have some explaining to do,” she said finally, her voice hoarse. Water dripped down her chin and she wiped it off with the back of her hand before handing the canteen back to Klaus.

“You aren’t going to like it,” he assured her, placing the canteen at his side.

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Well at least tell me why you were smoking. You told me you didn’t like tobacco.” The thought of him lying made her frown. To think, she had felt the urge to kiss him just last night. That fantasy was as good as ruined now.

“I wasn’t smoking, Caroline.”

“Well then how do you explain the smell?” She crossed her arms. His expression didn’t harden or soften, just stayed in that gaze that felt distant somehow.

“You aren’t going to like it, love.” His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper.

“Just tell me, Klaus!” She was angry now; secrets annoyed her, especially with him. Klaus always had an air of mystery to him, which sometimes made her feel like he was keeping something from her. Now she knew that for a fact, and it was infuriating.

He looked her straight in the eyes, unwavering. “It was the Devil,” he said. “What you smelled was his plague; his first attack. If I hadn’t gotten there when I did, you would be dead with the rest.”

Caroline’s eyes widened as she comprehended what he was saying. “The rest…” She turned back to the school, which she could barely make out now in the distance. “The rest…?” She thought back to her classmates, all very young children aside from a few that were her own age; her friends. Before she knew what she was doing she stood and turned to run back.

Klaus grabbed her arm hard. “Don’t, Caroline.”

“They’re dead?” The open space around her started closing in. “They’re DEAD?!” she screamed at him, tears in her eyes. “You knew! Why didn’t you save them?! We could have gotten them out…” Maybe there was still time. She pulled against him, but his grip tightened. “Let me go,” she spat.

“I can’t let you do that,” he said. His eyes were firm, uncaring. It confused her, scared her, but most of all it made her angrier. How could he not care about the dozens of casualties? She slapped him, hard. He let her go instantly, and didn’t look up. His eyes were dark, his lips pursed and twitching.

“When you lay eyes on your friends you will wish you had listened to me, sweetheart.” His voice shook, but she wasn’t about to give into his dramatics now. She took a step back in case he grabbed her again, but he didn’t move. “Whatever you do, stay away unless the smell is gone. It would be suicide.” He glanced up at her and she glared, wishing the tears would stop flowing from her eyes.

“Fine,” she choked.

“One more thing,” he said when she turned to leave.

“WHAT?” Her head whipped around, her eyes ablaze. She didn’t have the patience for him anymore.

Klaus smiled softly, which made her want to slap him again. “Promise me… that when you are done and wish you could scratch your eyes out be rid of what you saw…” She took a deep, ragged breath. He was wasting her time. “Promise you will come back to me.” She laughed a single, dark laugh and he frowned deeply. “I had no choice, Caroline. Remember that I saved you from what you see, and come back to me.”

She watched him for a moment. He looked sincere, but she didn’t care. Before he could say another word, she ran as fast as she could toward the school.

“You’re all I have left.”

 

When Caroline made it back to the schoolhouse she reluctantly followed Klaus’s advice and breathed in deeply, surveying the smells. The tobacco odor was gone, but she continued to sniff as she walked, just in case. It seemed clean. She tried to look in the windows, but they were clouded over with smoke. She froze at the door, wondering if it would kill her. But Klaus had only mentioned the smell, not the smoke itself, so she opened the door.

When she laid eyes on the sight before her, she choked back a sob, which turned into a heave, which became bile rising without warning. Acid burned her throat as her breakfast splattered onto the ground. She coughed and spat until the horrible taste faded somewhat, but it wouldn’t go away entirely. The image danced beneath her eyelids as she fought against the urge to look again. The urge won.

Bodies littered the floor, the bodies of her friends. The smell of rotting flesh was already overwhelming, despite how fresh their corpses were; though they didn’t look fresh at all. Their discolored skin already sagged from their bones and the irises of their wide bloodshot eyes had clouded over with grey.

Caroline walked slowly between the bodies, unable to tear her eyes away. They must have just sat down after recess and started a new lesson when the smoke took them. She found chalk and scattered crayons on the desks, but nothing more; there must not have been enough time to use them. After circling the room once, it was clear that she was the only survivor. Everyone else was here at her feet, swollen and rotting. A whole generation from their town, dead. Dead and gone.

She searched the corpses for faces she knew. Though they were horribly disfigured, she could recognize them by their clothes, hair, and height. “Matt,” she breathed, her eyes filling with tears. Her knees hit the ground hard and she crouched over him, tears falling onto his dirty clothes. “Wake up.” She rolled him over but fell backwards at the sight of his face. His cheeks were sunken and pieces of flesh were missing from his chin and forehead. Caroline couldn’t look away, even when her tears blinded her. It didn’t make sense. People didn’t live, die, and rot in the same hour. It couldn’t be real.

Caroline wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, pulling herself back over to Matt. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, gently closing his eyelids. Even with his wounds, it made him look more peaceful. She sat back in her heels and took another look around the room before landing on him again. Klaus had been right; there was nothing she could do here, but she wasn’t ready to admit that to him just yet. Though facing him was a million times more appealing than going home to Damon and Alaric. How was she supposed to explain this to them?

“I need to talk to Klaus,” she said aloud. The fact that he wanted her to do just that made it less appealing, but Caroline justified it because she wasn’t running to him to comfort. Somehow he had known about this plague before it happened, and she wanted to know how. “He has some explaining to do,” she whispered.

She stood up and took one last look at Matt.

Without warning his eyes shot open, clouded over with grey. She knew immediately that this corpse was no longer her friend. Without a second thought Caroline ran. She ran as fast as she could to the only person she trusted enough to keep her safe.


End file.
